


Don't Remember This

by melancholie



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Afghanistan, Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Military, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Angst, Blood, Character Death, Child Death, Choking, Death, Drinking, Gun Violence, M/M, Military, Past Relationship(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Swearing, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2018-02-26 20:47:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2665829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melancholie/pseuds/melancholie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim is a Human Intelligence Analyst with the rank of Corporal. Sebastian is a Sergeant that has command of a platoon of 28 men and has for several long months. Recent intelligence has come to light that has caused higher ups to send Corporal Moriarty to advise Sergeant Moran on the delicate situation. It’s tense (in more ways than one) and some bickering ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stale

“I might remind you that I hold a higher rank than you, Corporal,” Sebastian said flipping through charts with feigned purpose.

Jim smirked leaning back against the Sergeant’s desk, “Certainly, sir,” he trilled, mock respect staining every word, “but might I point out that a minor rank difference become fairly irrelevant when you remember I was sent to save your ass.” Jim’s eyes swept Sebastian up and down, lips curling at he corners. He leaned in closer until Sebastian could feel the younger man’s breath brushing his lips. “As fine of an ass as it is,” he breathed.

Sebastian’s gray-blue eyes narrowed. “That will be all Corporal. You’re dismissed.”

“Aye, aye Captain!” Jim gave an overly formal salute and marched out of the tent. Sebastian didn’t bother to attempt to correct him, choosing instead to sink into his desk chair pinching the bridge of his nose.

******

“Sergeant Moran?” The young private was timid, his blond hair and light eyes reminded Sebastian fairly well of himself in his early years.

“Yes?”

“There’s a briefing packet for you from main base, sir. And the new one, ah-”

“Corporal Moriarty?”

“Yes, sir, sorry, sir. Corporal Moriarty would like a meeting, sir.”

Fucking fantastic. “Fine. Briefing packet then the dear Corporal.”

“Yes, sir.” The private handed over the pile of paper with discernibly trembling fingers before ducking out of the tent flap.

Sebastian had barely begun the first paragraph when squabbling voices outside turned into his tent flap swinging back open and Jim striding in with the Private scurrying after him with a string of, “Sorry sir, sorry sir, I told him, I swear.”

Jim whirled on him, “Leave.” The Private’s eyes widened, head swinging back and forth between Jim and Sebastian, unsure whose order to obey.  
Sebastian sighed, “You’re dismissed, Private.”

Once the young man had ducked out, Sebastian turned to Jim anger sparking in his pupils, “And just what exactly do you think you’re doing barging in here?”

Jim rolled his eyes, “Get off your high horse Sebastian dear. As positively delightful as last night’s squabble over rank and file was we have far more pressing matters to discuss. I reviewed your old incident reports during the night. Things are far worse than I was told.” He flopped down on Sebastian bed and nodded at the briefing packet on the desk in front the Sergeant, “You read that yet?”

“You’re laying on my bed.”

“Yes. Small room, one chair, you’re already using. Could sit on your lap if you’d prefer but you’ve given me the impression you would not. Now back to the matter at hand – have you read that?”

“No, I’ve found you to be very disruptive.”

“Fine, let me know when you’re done.” Sebastian exhaled sharply through his nose, trying to decide whether to fight for his authority or let it go. He chose to let it go. For now.

He skimmed the first section of the briefing. New intelligence, planned bombings, a high-ranking official having vanished, concern that he wasn’t kidnapped and instead had switched sides, gone rogue with valuable information. Not good. Very not good. As much as Sebastian would hate to admit it, there was probably good reason for Corporal Moriarty’s presence.

Sebastian turned around to find that Jim had extracted Sebastian’s small – and previously locked – trunk from under his bed and now had it on his lap and was rummaging through it.

“Hey!” Sebastian flew out of his chair so fast he knocked it over. His cheeks went ruddy and he stormed over to Jim intent on knocking it from his hands but the man rolled to the side just enough to keep it from his reach.

“What’s the problem, big man? Lady friend back home make these for you?” he asked holding up a cookie from the box before popping it into his mouth and smacking his lips.

“I don’t have a … they’re fucking stale you fool.”

Jim swallowed. “I see that now. What else you got? Dirty letters?”

With that Sebastian snarled and leapt forward, half onto the bed grabbing the box and slamming it closed, right onto the man’s fingers. Jim didn’t even yelp, just laughed and pulled his hand away allowing Sebastian to recollect the items strew across the bed.

Fuming Sebastian stowed the box back under the bed. “You said we had things to discuss.”

“Yes.” Jim’s voice immediately lost all joking, “Your men are in danger,” his dark eyes met Sebastian’s with a depth of sincerity Sebastian had yet to see, “I can’t imagine you want to see them going home in body bags. So we need to make plans.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first time I've actually posted something on here so if you have any constructive criticism please let me know!
> 
> I have two (ish depending on editing) more chapters fairly close to ready to go they just need to be cleaned up/finalized and if I see any kind of evidence this has been appreciably read that would be enough motivation to make that happen so I guess we'll see where that goes.


	2. Firefight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was originally going to have this chapter include the next part but it was getting to be too long and I wanted to post this tonight. So I will put this up now and have another chapter for you tomorrow night. Enjoy!
> 
> (New tags added)

Bullets hit the walls of the compound exactly two weeks from Jim’s arrival. Jim predicted it.

In the wee hours of the morning, the day of the firefight, he slipped into the Sergeant’s tent. 

“Wake up, I have information,” he said sitting on the edge of the sleeping man’s bed. Sebastian didn’t stir. Jim sighed and stripped back the covers, exposing Sebastian’s half naked body to the cool early morning air. Sebastian started and thrashed out, half asleep, almost punching Jim in the face. Jim easily ducked the blow, instead slapping Sebastian on the stomach and saying louder, “Wake. Up.”

At the touch, Sebastian sat bolt right up in bed staring at Jim through the dim light. “What the fuck,” he muttered, “this is not the hour for a social call.”

“Yeah, well, this isn’t social. We have a problem.”

“What’s that?”

“I have a contact, in the town nearby-“

“A spy?”

Jim sighed heavily, “Yes, you would call it that,” his eyes met Sebastian, hard and black, “Taliban forces are planning to attack the compound. Today.”

Sebastian swung his legs from the bed, almost hitting Jim in the process, any final trickles of sleep vanishing from his eyes.

“What? When? How?” He was on his feet, headed towards his desk, papers in hand in a matter of seconds.

“I don’t know.” Sebastian whirled on Jim, fear fueled anger flashing in his eyes.

“You don’t know? It is your job to know. They sent you here to know. You’ve been harassing me for two weeks because you know.”

Jim remained steely calm through his superior’s rage, “I don’t have all the information. I never will. It’s a blessing to have this much. We can accept that and work with it.”

Sebastian hissed through his teeth, turning back around, hands clenching the back of his chair. “Work with it,” he muttered. “Fine. Fine. You’re right. We don’t need to know more. It’ll be fine. You already informed main base, I assume?”

“Not at all, I came to you first, sir”

“You. Didn’t. Tell. Main. Base. We’re. Going. To. Be. Attacked.”

“No. I received this information,” Jim checked his watch, “Twelve minutes ago. Two and a half minutes before walking into your tent. You give the impression of someone who likes to be reported to directly.”

Sebastian ran a hand through his hair. “Right. Well, in that case, acceptable.”

“You’d do well to gain control of your emotions, sir” Jim muttered, only slightly under his breath.

Sebastian was back, grabbing Jim by the neckline of his undershirt, “And you would do well not to give me orders.” Jim didn’t respond simply raised an eyebrow and after a moment Sebastian dropped his hold with a sigh and sank down into his chair. “Fine then. We’ll evacuate. Call Camp Bastion. Get choppers. Not a problem. No problem at all.”

“That may not be wise, sir.”

“And why not?”

“The man I spoke with believes that the scope of this strike is far-reaching and calculated. They’re bound to know that we’ll send an evacuation chopper. They’ll shoot it down.”

“There’s thirteen Taliban soldiers in this village, Jim. Maybe a dozen in the hills. It’s a fairly rag tag group. They’re not a threat.”

“Sebastian … they’ve been gathering for several days. Very quietly, yes, I’d almost say impressively so. But they’re gathering and … Sebastian this has been in the works for – a while, as far as I can tell. We don’t know all the details, there is not a lot of information available here, but there is a reason I was brought in here. We need to be concerned.” Sebastian was silent. “I’m not willing to speculate on how far they’ll pull their resources for this. I don’t want to take chances.”

“Fine,” the Sergeant finally spoke, “Tanks. Evacuate in tanks immediately.” 

“Don’t be an idiot, you know that’s even worse. They’ll pick us off one by one-”

Sebastian stood, throwing his hands in the air, “Then what, solider? What? Do you have a single suggestion or just endless pessimist criticisms?”

“I do have a suggestion actually.”

“I’d love to hear it,” Sebastian grumbled.

“We stay, we wait.”

“Sitting ducks. Wonderful plan.”

“This is not a weak compound, Sergeant. It’s not Bastion by any means, but it’s not weak. Increase perimeter security immediately. Don’t let anyone get close enough to shoot. Alert main base. Have them ready to send back up choppers at a moment’s notice. Be ready. But don’t leave. Stay inside. We’re reasonably safe here, Sebastian.”

“Reasonably.” 

“Yes. Reasonably. No, it’s not perfect but it’s not as if anything would be.”

Sebastian sunk into his chair, rubbing his hand down his face, “No,” he sighed, “no, nothing would be.” After a moment he looked up, meeting Jim’s eyes. “Radio main base. Let them know the situation. I’ll prepare the men.”

“Yes, sir.”

******

“You! Over there! Now! If you are a private you are against the walls. If you are a Corporal you report to me. Move!”

Sebastian’s orders were always strong, always harsh, always obeyed. Still, the day of the firefight, something was different. Feet moved more quickly. Voices were more hushed. Actions smoother. No laughter rang out across the grounds. 

Jim stood at Sebastian’s side as he surveyed his men scurrying about. Eight Corporals presented themselves in front of Sebastian with a resounding chorus of “Sergeant, Sir!” Sebastian stared at them unblinkingly for a long moment before dispersing them – two to guard the gate, four to patrol the walls, and two to be ready in the tanks. 

Then Sebastian returned to his tent, gesturing for Jim to follow. From under the bed he pulled a black case, opening it to reveal a L115A3 sniper rifle which he deftly began assembling. 

“You’re … a sniper?” Jim questioned.

“Was. Was a sniper,” Sebastian muttered, “I’d like to think I’m still good.”

“Why not … any more?”

Sebastian glanced up at him, “I wanted to stick in one place. When I was a sniper I had assignments not locations. Never anywhere for longer than a few days. And things were starting to settle down around here. They needed fewer snipers and thought I’d do well in a commanding role. Not sure they were right about that but there you have it.”

Before Jim could respond they heard the first shots ring out against the walls of the compound.


	3. After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this one is a fair bit longer - hope you enjoy!!
> 
> Next chapter might have to wait to go up until after Thanksgiving festivities are over but I'll see what happens while I wait around the airport!
> 
> (Note: New tags, new character, new rating)

As the two men ran from the tent, they watched a soldier fall from the compound wall to the enemy ground outside. Sebastian’s feet quickened at the sight.

“Get. Down,” he bellowed to the rest of the men, “Down!”

The Sergeant’s voiced thundered through the compound and the remaining men followed the command immediately, scurrying down ladders and dropping the final few feet onto safer soil.

At that moment a sandy haired man took off running from the medical tent towards the front gates of the compound, ignoring the Sergeant‘s red-faced anger and Jim’s dumb-founded stare. He ducked the arm of the man guarding the gate and pushed through, Sebastian’s shouts echoing behind him, “John. Hamish. Watson. If you-”

Sebastian’s threat died on his lips and something sparked in his eyes that Jim had never seen there before. Sebastian took off across the compound after the man, his tan boots hitting the ground hard enough to echo against the walls.

Jim composed himself in the space of a couple second and ran after his commanding officer. Sebastian had stopped just inside the gate. Gunfire could be heard outside the walls, drowning out the enraged orders Sebastian shouted at the man just beyond the gates.

The blonde returned, half dragging, half carrying a young soldier – no more than nineteen years old. He collapsed with the boy just within the gates of the compound. Both were covered in blood - the boy from a multitude of gunshot wounds peppered across his chest and upper right bicep; the blonde from a single bullet seemingly deeply buried in his left thigh, the blood quickly staining his trousers.

The gates slammed shut behind them at Sebastian’s command. More orders flew and bullets began flying from the compound in rapid retaliation. Then Sebastian turned to shout barely discernible curses at the man before him. The new arrival didn’t seem to be one to take it.

“Shut the fuck up Seb. He needs a medic-chopper. Now.” Sebastian whirled on his heel storming away not responding other than to begin barking into the radio.

“Stop staring you prick and help me,” the blonde snapped looking up at Jim who had been half-frozen in confusion and uncertainty. Jim’s eyes narrowed at the command from a man he did not know but he knelt all the same. “Corporal John Watson,” stated the blonde, not taking his eyes from the bandages he was securing around the young man’s chest, “I’m the medic. Get me more bandages.”

“You’re not my superior.”

John’s bloodstained hands froze and he slowly looked up at Jim, fury and disgust staining his every word, “Nine out of ten chance this man dies before the chopper arrives. Get. Me. More. Bandages.”

Jim did as he was told.

******

Hours later, the compound was quiet. The gunfire had stopped flying. The medic-chopper had come and gone, taking John and the young Soldier with it. Three Taliban soldiers were dead; the rest had fled in a matter of minutes. Sebastian had sent the soldiers to shower and rest. The compound was dark and quiet.

The early evening air was cool against Jim’s slightly damp hair as he strode amongst the tents. Light shone out from underneath the Sergeant’s tent flap and with a smile he ducked in.

“I saw the light,” he said, sitting on the bed.

“Of course you did. I almost lost two men today, Jim. I’m not really in the mood.”  
  
“Mmm, yes. I actually have a question about that.”

Sebastian sighed and closed his eyes, “Of course you do.”

“John.” Sebastian chose not to respond. A smile turned up the corner of Jim’s mouth. “Something special about John?”

“Perceptive little bugger aren’t you?”

“That’s my job, sir. Not that it wasn’t obvious, Seb, dear.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, “You will not call me that.”

“I am curious. What happened?”

“You don’t care.”

“Oh but I do.”

Sebastian laughed, “His … master … from back home wrote me a letter. Two actually. Requesting – no demanding – that I return his … pet … to him, full time. That’s the letters in the box you were poking through, actually. Not all of them, of course. Most are from my Mum and my sisters. But two – two are from The Great Sherlock Holmes.”

“Hmm.” Jim steeped his fingers together, smile playing on his lips.

“What?”

“Just observations.”

“Such as?”

“Such as you don’t seem to care much that John left you.”

“I don’t care. And?”

“And?”

“You said ‘observations.’ Plural.”

“And you seem to have no qualms about a relationship with a subordinate.”

Sebastian huffed another laugh, “Relationship. It wasn’t a relationship. I didn’t care about him, Jim. Not like that, at least ... But he made me feel something. Damn it, Jim, you know, sometimes … sometimes out here you just need something, something other than the weight of the lives of twenty-eight men that at this rate won’t-” he gestured towards the door of the tent, toward the rest of the compound, and his voice dropped, “-won’t make it through the week.”

“Yeah. You do need something.”

Sebastian sighed, running a hand through his hair, “Make your point, Jim. I’m not in the mood for games.”

“You know my point.”

Sebastian stared at Jim for several long moments. His eyes, grayer than they were blue in the rapidly darkening evening, were hard, filled with the weight of his position. A thousand thoughts rushed his mind: The young soldier bleeding out in the courtyard just hours ago. John risking his life for a man he barely knew. The dark haired Corporal sitting across from Sebastian on the bed, black eyes cutting into him.

The smaller things too: The tanks would need more fuel, would it be safe to go out? Incident reports. So many incident reports. The townspeople expected patrols tomorrow. How could he do that without putting his men in more danger? Still, the dark haired Corporal sitting across from him on the bed, black eyes cutting into him.

The dead soldier would need to be replaced. John, too, at least temporarily. Sebastian didn’t want to do it, didn’t want to think about it. And the dark haired Corporal sitting across from him on the bed, black eyes cutting into him…

“Fuck,” Sebastian hissed, rubbing his hands hard down his face, “just – fuck it.” For the second time that day, he grabbed the Corporal by the neckline of his shirt – but this time Sebastian didn’t let go.

He shoved the smaller man onto his back against the cot, straddling him, lips smashing together, fingers still twisted in the shirt fabric. Jim’s breath gasped out against Sebastian’s lips as he fell back.

With a firm nip to Jim’s lower lip, Sebastian’s released his grip on the Corporal’s shirt and leaned back on his heels, beginning to undo his own jacket. “Take it off,” he muttered, “Take everything off.”

Jim opened his mouth as if to dispute the order but quickly chose to tear off his own jacket instead. Sebastian was back before Jim was even half done, his large hands yanking at the remaining fabric as he found Jim’s mouth.

His right forearm pressed into the mattress by Jim’s head supporting himself while their mouths hungrily fought one another and Sebastian’s left hand fumbled at the bedside stand. His hand closed around the slim bottle of lube and he pulled back, lips breaking from Jim’s with a slight pop.

Their breaths came in quick pants, the energy between the two already burning through the air, Sebastian’s rapidly hardening erection pressing into Jim’s thigh.

Sebastian took the opportunity to shift his position pulling Jim’s left leg up and around his own hip, slipping the man’s pants the rest of the way off at the same time, releasing Jim’s stiff cock, making Jim groan.

“You’re overly excitable,” Sebastian half-chuckled, tracing two fingers down the other man’s length and cupping his sac, earning a throaty moan.

Sebastian didn’t know Jim, didn’t know his body, didn’t know his size, didn’t know what he could take. Sebastian found he almost didn’t care. Almost.

Sebastian flicked open the lube and squeezed some onto his fingers rubbings it around, biding his time, watching Jim’s face. Then he slowly began massaging the other man’s hole.

One finger in. Jim’s groans were deeply satisfying and they made Sebastian’s cock ache. Two fingers, rubbing, scissoring, stretching until the smaller man could take a third. A third with a deep groan, Jim’s fingers digging into in the mattress. Sebastian just barely brushed Jim’s prostate and the man yelped out.

“Hush. The men will hear you.”

Something in Sebastian’s smirk suggested that he might not really care if they did. He pulled his fingers out slowly, lingering, rubbing.

He stopped ran a finger down Jim’s stomach, following the trail of fine dark hairs, pausing to rub the tip of Jim’s cock with his thumb before moving to slick up his own. Jim’s breath faded in and out with the touch.

“I’m going to take you so hard, my dear,” Sebastian murmured, “So hard.”

Lining himself up with Jim’s entrance, he placed his hands on the other man’s hips and pressed himself in, slowly at first, then harder. Jim’s legs tightened around Sebastian’s waist, pulling himself closer. His head fell back, cries of pain and pleasure falling from his lips. Jim’s body moved in time with Sebastian’s thrusts, his hands on the other man’s chest nails digging in, leavings red half-moons.

Jim’s eyes flashed open suddenly and he twined his fingers in Sebastian’s hair, “Oh, god, Sebastian. Sebastian, I’m – I’m – I’m going to come. Sebastian!” And he did, strings of cum coating his stomach, Sebastian a moment later, teeth digging into Jim’s collarbone, screaming into the other man’s flesh.

Their ragged breath was the loudest thing in the tent. Sebastian pressed his face into the crook between Jim’s neck and shoulder for a moment then pulled out and collapsed beside him on the bed without a word. They were silent for several long moments.

Then Sebastian spoke. “That was … that was…” he started.

“Mmm … that was very good.”

“No,” Sebastian’s voice changed, hardened, “No. That was a mistake. No.”

Jim sat up. “What? Sebastian.”

“No,” Sebastian turned to him, eyes dark, “no, get out. We shouldn’t have … get out.”

“Sebastian-”

“Do not call me Sebastian. I am your superior. You will address me as sir. You will address me as Sergeant. Get out of my bed. Go. Get out.” Jim moved slowly, sluggish half from orgasm, half from surprised.

“Sir-”

Sebastian rolled back to face the wall, pulling a sheet around himself. “Go shower, Corporal, you’re covered in mess.”


	4. Drop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been three years (almost to the day) since I updated this and I lost the original file so I had to start over but I've gotten into a writing mood so I thought I'd go ahead and add to it.

The old speakers warbled out their half hearted version of the morning bugle call an hour before the usual time and bleary eyed soldiers stumbled into lines in the center of the compound. Sebastian paced in front of them, dark shadows under his eyes from the sleepless night. The fatigue and stress had brewed into anger under his skin and the cups of bitter instant coffee only made the matter worse.

“Yesterday was a firefight but we are not here to lick our wounds, men. We still have a job to do and we’re down two men so your usual slacking off will no longer be tolerated.” Irritation sneered his words but if there’s any doubt to his seriousness, the following bellow removed it, “Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir!”

“We’ll be returning to patrols as usual at 0900. Prior to that, I’m initiating a new physical training schedule that will continue every morning until I see fit. Begin with fifty laps around the compound, then report back here for further instructions from Corporal Johnson. Mess hall closes at 0830. Finish late, you don’t eat.”

Sebastian didn’t wait for a reply before turning on his heel towards his quarters. He barely made it around the first building before a light tap on his shoulder caused him to spin around slamming the culprit back against the wall.

“Who the hell-” The question stopped in his throat as he recognized the dark eyes twinkling back at him, but he didn’t release his grip.

“Hey there, sir,” Jim grinned, “I thought we could chat. You know, follow up from yesterday. Seeing as I’ve now proven myself ... in the intelligence gathering department, maybe you trust me to sit down and do some planning.”

Sebastian hissed under his breath, finally releasing Jim from his grasp. “And what makes you think you’re exempt from the training all of the rest of the men are currently engaging in?”

“I’m an Intelligence Operative, not a foot soldier. And furthermore you don’t own me. I’m here to help you. You’re my commanding officer while I’m here, but at the end of the day I report to Staff Sergeant Davies at Bastion. Not you.”

“Drop.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said drop. Drop and give me fifty.”

“Did you listen to anything I just said?”

“Yes. I’m your commanding officer. And Staff Sergeant Davies isn’t here. Drop. Now it’s a hundred.”

The cold steel in Sebastian’s eyes cut through Jim’s smirk and he dropped to the ground.

******

The sun finally started to rise over the compound and the men left for their usual patrols, albeit with less cheerful chatter and a greater sense of anticipation than usual. A chopper flew in an hour later, it’s blades breaking through the quiet calm. Sebastian watched it with disinterest, giving a nod to the pilot in the cockpit. The expression hardened significantly when he saw John hop out, but he still didn’t move from his position leaning against the side of the mess hall.

John’s limp was impressively well hidden, but Sebastian still noticed it easily in the few yards it took for the other man to join him. “They were supposed to be sending me a new medic, not returning you,” he said before John could offer a greeting.

“They were but I insisted I come back. I’m doing just fine, it was just a graze.”

“I can’t have my men operating at less than a hundred percent, not right now.”

“You know I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t at my best. I don’t put others lives at risk.”

“It’s not others lives I’m worried about.” Something flickered in Sebastian's eyes for a moment before they went blank again and he turned away. “You’ve yet to fail me. Don’t let this be the time.”

“I won’t.” Silence fell between them and John’s eyes landed on the man circling back around the compound towards them. He nodded toward the figure with a chuckle, “Still running people ragged I see? What’d this one do to piss you off?”

Sebastian didn’t respond, just watched as Jim comes closer, skidding to a halt in front of the two of them. Sweat poured down his face, his eyes bloodshot and breath too ragged to form words.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, “Puke yet?” Jim managed a shake of his head, hands braced against his knees. “Let’s do ten more then.”

Jim’s only acknowledgment of the order was to start back towards the perimeter of the encampment, but John called after him, “No. That’s enough.” Jim paused in confusion, but John wasn't looking at him, instead placing a hand on Sebastian’s should. “Sebastian ... you can’t do this.”

Sebastian huffed but stormed off, leaving John to tend to Jim.


	5. Impulse

Sebastian’s anger came in waves over the next few months. Jim’s quick wits and high marks had earned him a blind eye that allowed him to skate through a certain amount of his original boot camp physical training. Sebastian, however, was never one to turn a blind eye and though Jim would likely never be anything other than wiry, he was soon able to keep up with the best of the men on the morning runs.

On days that Sebastian did go to far, John stepped in, just as he did that first morning. Sometimes all it took was sending Jim off for a shower with instructions to drink plenty of water, other days John sat him down in the medical tent to watch for heat stroke while he wrapped the blisters on Jim’s hands.

Overall, though, the anger faded, as did the memories of the firefight and the heaviness it left hanging over the compound. The threats were far from gone, if Jim’s continued presence was any indication, but his timely warnings and well-placed intel muted the worry they caused.

One recognizance mission in particular had gone especially well and seeing as it was one of the first warm nights of early summer, it seemed a celebration of sorts was in order. Three people would never make a party, but the relaxation of a few beers and exchange of old stories on the roof of the mess hall almost make the night feel like a normal one.

When it’s real, Sebastian’s laugh is deep and warm. “See, John, that story is exactly why we have to keep everyone on their toes. Let people relax too much and they get bored enough to find their interests in each other, whether or not there was any to begin with. Sergeant Mathews wouldn’t have a slew of affairs on his hands if his unit had a little excitement once in awhile. Unless you want your unit shut down.”

Jim raised an eyebrow at Sebastian, “Are you actually suggesting that, as a rule, people can’t keep their hands off each unless they’re regularly taking on gunfire?”

“No, no, not at all. Just that people get bored. And what else do you do out here?”

John snorted, “I should hope not, Seb, because you’re certainly one to prove otherwise.”

On another night, both the casual nickname and teasing reference to an earlier time would have earned even John a harsh rebuke. As it was, the warm night air and slight buzz of alcohol relaxed Sebastian’s usual harsh demeanor. He acknowledged the comment with a smile, offering no protest, “As I said, what else is there to do out here.”

“Sorry to leave you so bored, my dear, but when the heart comes calling …”

Sebastian’s laugh was hard enough to make him set his bottle down, “That’s a nice way to describe the interventions of that demanding little twerp.” John simply shrugged.

“Don’t trouble yourself, John. Sebastian isn’t the type to remain bored for long.” The suggestion in Jim’s words was slight, but John caught it anyways, eyes darting between the two men, reading the tension forming in the air between him.

A smile played on his lips and he stood from his chair, lightly setting down his bottle. “I think I’ll take my parting. I have rounds to make and letters to write. You two enjoy your night.”

The silence that fell in John’s absence was far more relaxed than it could have been, though still weighted by months of unspoken words. Rather than reaching for his beer again, Sebastian pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He lit one and took a long drag before offering it to Jim, who declined with a wave of his hand.

“So John calls you Seb and gets a laugh. I call you Sebastian and get thrown out of your bed. Inconsistent much?” As playful as Jim’s tone was, the question was real.

Sebastian’s breath pauses for a moment, conflicting responses spinning around in his head as he let out a long exhale of smoke. He stamped the cigarette out against the arm of the chair, biding long moments before answering. “I was angry, Jim. John … was during simpler times. You and I … while that night certainly wasn’t the worst I’ve had here, it was the worst under my command. It was my most significant failure.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Sebastian didn’t respond, just stared out over the encampment away from Jim. “So anger begets regret is what you’re saying?”

“No. Impulsivity, yes, but not regret. I didn’t regret it.”

It wasn’t something Sebastian had intended to tell him, but even with the effects of the alcohol fading away, honesty felt right.

“Prove it.”

Sebastian turned his gaze back from the dark skyline, only just then realizing Jim had come to stand in front of him. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

Warring emotions raged in Sebastian’s eyes. He’d spent months arguing this in his head, months telling himself that he should regret it. At least lashing out in anger every time he couldn’t pushed Jim far enough away to put the option off the table. Removing the choice was the only guaranteed way to know he wouldn’t act on impulse again. To know he wouldn’t fuck up again. But the glint in Jim’s dark eyes did nothing to suggest he’d been pushed away.

Sebastian stood up slowly from his chair. Jim already stood so close that he had to take barely half of a step for their faces to be just inches apart. He had intended to question Jim further but the twitch of the other man’s lips and the look in his eyes said plenty on their own. “Fine.”

Their first kiss had been rough, fueled by adrenaline and misplaced anger. The one Sebastian planted on Jim now was passionate, calloused hands grabbing for his hair to pull him closer, this one fueled by months of unspoken words and its own type of anger.

They broke apart only when both were out of breath. One of Sebastian’s hands fell from Jim’s hair, landing against his neck, fingernails digging in, just enough to quicken his pulse. Sebastian pulled away as quickly as he’d come, leaning down to grab his pack of cigarettes and heading for the ladder down from the roof.

He paused, one hand on it, not turning to look back, “Coming?”

******

Sebastian collapsed back down next to Jim, their synchronous ragged breathing the only remaining sound for several minutes. As his breath and heart rate began to return to normal, Sebastian opened his eyes to find Jim watching him.

His face was still flush from orgasm, dark hair tangled back from his forehead. He was a sight, even now.

A smirk played on Jim’s lips. “Are you going to throw me out again?”

“Not unless you snore. But be gone before morning wake-up call.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sebastian snorted before throwing an arm over his eyes, breath soon fading into sleep.


	6. Routine

Jim woke up alone and left for the showers before the morning bugle call could sound. He kept an eye on Sebastian throughout breakfast, watching his bowed head murmuring to the two Corporals at the table next to him. 

When he got up, Jim followed him with his own empty tray, timing his steps so they slammed into each other when Sebastian turned around. His eyes followed the plastic cup as it skittered across the floor before they went to Jim.

“You better watch where you’re going, Corporal.” His voice was cold and emotionless, face completely impassive. 

Jim followed him out of the mess hall without bothering to pick up the fallen cup. He had to half run to keep up with Sebastian’s long, quick stride but the months of training let him do so with ease.

“Rethinking being pissed off, then?”

Sebastian kept walking without a pause. “Not at all. See you tonight, Corporal.” 

******

“What’s Sebastian’s problem?” 

John startled from his reading and looked up to realize Jim had silently slipped into the medical tent and was now standing over him. “He running you ragged again?”

“Yes, but not like you mean.” 

John laughed and set the stack of folders down before coming around the desk. “It all means about the same.” 

“I’m sure it does but what’s his problem?”

Seriousness returned to John’s face as quickly as it left. “I’ve asked myself that question many times. Believe me, if I had the answer I’d tell you.”

Jim was never really one for friends. Not that he couldn’t have made them if he tried (and he certainly did, at least for show) but he rarely had the desire to actually connect with another person. But he was also never really one for advice, either and the fact that John was able to prove himself in either category was a small miracle in and of itself.

******

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. Sebastian’s bouts of anger seemed to be a thing of the past, though his melancholic moods swing certainly still remained. Late night talks with a beer, a cigarette, and the company of Jim, John or both left him calm, lighthearted, even warm. The increasingly common sleepless, passion filled evenings he shared with Jim were violent, certainly, but not with his past anger. They wouldn’t speak or even make eye contact for a day or two afterwards, except in the most formal of file exchanges and strategy meetings. But then Sebastian would grab Jim by his collar, slam him to the bed and fuck him senseless.

John thought it was funny. As an almost biweekly ritual, Jim would wander into the medical unit, flop on an exam table and launch into a rambling complaint about Sebastian’s utter lack of willingness to discuss the subject. Even Sebastian had burst into a few, somewhat drunken, rants to John about what a complete, obnoxious prick Jim was.

Still, things continued. Their lives became almost routine, as calm as can be in a war zone. 

******

Jim was the only one in the mess hall when Sebastian entered. The smaller man was nursing a cup of coffee as he poured over an old map of the region.

“I’ve got news,” Sebastian said, coming up behind him. If Jim was startled, he didn’t show it.

“And what’s that?”

“We’re going on vacation.” 

Jim quirked an eyebrow up at him. “Shall I pack my bikini?”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “If you like, though you might regret it given that it's currently below freezing in London.”

“London isn’t vacation, Seb. London’s home. Are we getting sent back?”

“No. Sun Awards. Our unit was nominated. We leave after tomorrow’s final big run. Back before the week’s out.”

“And why am I coming?”

“Because I requested to have you join me. You helped us get this far.” He paused, hand on the doorframe. “You’ve been doing well, Jim. I’m not the only one who’s noticed.”


	7. Hemorrhage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get pretty bad in this chapter so heed the tags and violence warnings (added a couple new ones).
> 
> Also officially two chapters out from the end!

“Men! I’m tired of seeing you get slack! Quiet days and crickets at night make you lazy? Need a bit of gun fire to get your asses in gear? I’m sure Corporal Johnson can arrange some range practice in my absence but for now we have work to do. Helping to build this school was only half the battle; protecting the children long enough that they can attend is the other half. Don’t think that there won’t be resistance just because we’ve yet to see a rebellion we couldn’t tamp down. Don’t think that there aren’t those who might try to use today as a distraction. Likely all will go well, but that doesn’t mean you let your guard down. Do I make myself clear?”

The chorus of “Yes, sir,” rang out through through the compound.

“You’re dismissed.” The men dispersed from their lines, scattering out in seperate directions like cars passing through a massive, poorly ordered roundabout.

Sebastian ducked into the medical tent to find John packing up a couple plastic crates set on one of the exam tables. He greeted Sebastian with a nod.

“Most of the unit is about to head out,” he told him, “But I’ll send you and the last Mastiff whenever you’re packed and ready. Who did you train to help with the vaccines?”

“Hanson.”

“Alright, he’ll stay and leave with you too. Anything else you need?”

John shook his head and closed the lid on one of the boxes. “Nope, I just want to make sure we get the rest of these done today. I really wish we’d gotten this last shipment in sooner.”

“It is what it is, John.” Sebastian left him and went to meet up with the line of vehicles preparing to head out of the compound.

 

******

 

The line of patrol vehicles moved slowly down the main village road, stopping every few houses to gather up a few more students as they headed towards the town center. A small crowd swelled as they got near and upon seeing the arrival of the group a teacher went to unlock the door to the school.

When they paused in front of it, a little girl standing beside Sebastian’s tugged on his sleeve and he kneeled down to her.

“I don’t think I want to go,” she said, “Can you take me back? I’ll come tomorrow instead.”

Sebastian chuckled. “You’ll like it. I promise.”

Her lips pressed together as she seemed to consider his words.

It was just one bullet. It swiped Sebastian’s shoulder, barely missing the child in front of him as it continued on its trajectory. A few small drops of blood landed on her cheeks, carrier through the air by its velocity. She barely blinked. It was just one bullet.

Then it wasn’t.

There was a fraction of a second that felt like eternity, a fraction of a second where time stood still, and then the sound of gunfire rained down on them. Sebastian leapt to his feet and pushed her towards the schoolhouse. The teacher grabbed her hand and pulled indoors.

The high pitched shriek behind him indicated that another child didn’t make it that far.

Sebastian turned and ran the few steps it took to get back to the vehicle and scrambled to the top, taking the rifle that was handed to him. Before he could adjust his position enough to take aim, a violent explosion rocked the ground below the vehicle. It toppled over, sending Sebastian crashing to the ground.

His head made first impact but he was only out for a moment before warped sounds came rushing back louder than ever. One of his corporal’s was shouting orders from further down the street, but with the echo of the blast still ringing in his ears he couldn’t make out any of the words. Sand and soot covered his face and choked his lungs, he spat a mouthful of it to his side and braced himself to sit up.

A hand caught it shoulder and he looked up to find John kneeling over him, blue eyes staring intently. His lips were moving but whatever was being said sounded like it was coming through water, too muffled for Sebastian to follow. He fought back against John’s grip, but the hand pushed him back down with a shake of the other man’s head.

Sebastian’s mind was clouded, everything seeming distant and moving far too slowly. What was John doing? They needed to move, the cover of the overturned vehicle would only last them so long. John surely had an explanations, his lips never stopped moving as his hands flew across Sebastian’s head and neck, but it was lost with gunfire the only sound Sebastian could make out.

Two words finally broke through and they weren’t John’s. “Leave him.” John’s hands froze holding the bandage he’d started to wrap around Sebastian’s head. “You heard me. Leave him, or I’ll shoot you. You can’t help him either way.”

With John distracted, Sebastian was able to twist his head enough to get an upside down view of the man standing a few meters away, rifle poised and pointed directly at John’s head.

“John,” Sebastian growled, rolling over to his side without taking eyes off the gunman, “Go. Now.” John didn’t move. “John!”

Maybe John froze, maybe he made a choice. Maybe time just stood still. Maybe it mattered. It probably didn’t.

The rain of bullets crossed the space between them in less time than it took for realization to set it and John fell backwards to the ground before the last ones had even finished sailing through the air. Then the barrel of the gun turned to Sebastian.

He choked out a gutted, enraged snarl and rolled the rest of the way over, pulling the pistol from the holster on his leg. It was half-raised when another single bullet shot above his head and landed directly between the insurgent’s eyes, dropping him to the ground.

The blonde scrambled to his knees next to John, looking behind him just long enough to see Jim standing there, gun raised. Footsteps approached behind him and there was a kick to the back of one of his boots.

“He’s gone Sebastian. And we will be too if you don’t move.”

Sebastian was used to mockery and life in Jim’s eyes, even when things were serious. But now they were as cold and lifeless as those of the two men lying in the dirt.

 

******

 

His men were good, his second in command could easily lead the platoon herself. She probably would after this. It wasn’t a thought Sebastian really wanted to acknowledge. Support had arrived soon enough to prevent further casualties, but the number that occured before that was more than anyone cared to think about.

Only a couple of hours had passed since most of the soldiers had been evacuated, but it might as well have been days. Regrouping at the main camp was a formality more than anything; they all knew it would be packed up and closed. They were all going home, at least for now. Most of the personnel milling around had just been flown in to handle those details, something that Sebastian was none too pleased with. Not that he was really pleased with anything.

“You should come with us to Bastion to get checked out, just in case there’s any internal bleeding. It’s a low risk, since it's been a few hours and you’re doing well but-”

Sebastian cut him off. “I’m fine. It’s a couple flesh wounds and maybe a mild concussion. I’ll leave with the last group later tonight.”

The medic looked like he wanted to argue, but the the bloodied stripes in the center of Sebastian’s uniform and the hard steel in his eyes told the young man better.

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Will there be anything else?”

“No.”

Without another word, Sebastian left the soldier with the chopper and headed for the edge of camp. There wasn’t a particular destination he had in mind, but it needed to be somewhere else.

Another voice called from behind him, “Sebastian!” He kept walking. “Sebastian!” Angrier, more insistent. He kept walking, ignoring the sound of footsteps running up behind him.

“Seb. Stop. Talk to me.” When the words didn’t get through, Jim grabbed Sebastian's sleeve and yanked him around. Icy anger flashed through his eyes and his words become razor sharp. “Sebastian! Wake the fuck up.” The swear was accompanied by a hard shove to Sebastian chest. Unprepared for it, he stumbled and his back met the wall behind him. Jim closed the space between them before Sebastian had any chance to recover, leaving him pinned between the wall and Jim’s rage.

His eyes finally met Jim’s again but they were distant enough that he might as well not have been there. Jim’s growl of frustration was the only warning before his fist made contact with Sebastian’s jaw. It wasn’t a significant impact, just enough to crack a chapped lip and perhaps leave a slight bruise, but the feeling grounded Sebastian.

“Get off me, Jim.”

“No.” Instead Jim took another half step forward until their chest were pressed together and planted his hands on the wall on either side of Sebastian’s head. “You’re not doing this, Sebastian. Not bailing. Not now, not ever. Those men fucking need you. And you’re not throwing me to the curb either. This isn’t going to be like last time.”

“John didn’t die last time, Jim. A lot of people didn’t die.”

Jim sighed, removing his hands from the wall and taking a step back. “That’s not the only thing that’s changed since then, Seb.”

Sebastian reacted almost involuntarily to Jim’s retreat, moving forward to reclose the distance before he stopped himself. He opened his mouth to say something but before he could his eyes went blank, lids fluttering closed as his knees gave out from under him.


	8. Scars

By the time John’s funeral came the two burr hole marks on Sebastian’s scalp had just started turning into the pink lines of scars. It had taken a week to evacuate the entire unit back to London and a couple weeks longer until the entirety of the surviving members were stable enough to be released from the hospital. They all wanted to attend the funeral, they were all John’s friends. More than one owed their life to him.

Sebastian had been one of the last to be released. Lying in bed for the better part of two weeks recovering from a major brain bleed was far from his idea of a good time. He didn’t mind the doctor - a mousy brown haired little thing, nervous with small talk, confident with medicine - but she wasn’t John and in some ways that irked him even more than the tubes that kept him chained to bed. Knowing that he was facing discharge - honorable though it may be - didn’t make him any less irritable.

It wasn’t an elaborate funeral by any standards, but it certainly was large. The military uniforms were mixed amongst tailored suits of civilian physicians as well as the simpler clothes of John’s extended family and outside friends. The service, too, was simple allowing most of the time for guests to mingle, share stories and comfort.

When Sherlock finally spied Sebastian after the service had ended, the unrestrained anger was quick to flash across his face. He was several rows of chairs away but his words carried twice the distance, “What the hell do you think you’re doing here, Sebastian Moran?”

“Paying my respects to a friend.”

Sherlock sneered, “Don’t give me that shit. It’s inappropriate for you to be here. This is for loved ones. People who cared about him.”

It was clear how hard those words hit Sebastian. “I … did care.”

“Oh, like hell you did. I know you played around over there. I don’t care. He was with me. That’s what matters.”

“That’s what you think? He was with you? He spent that time hundreds of miles away, Sherlock! He was with me!”

“We were together. For ten years. It doesn’t matter if he was physically here or not. Your petty fuck-spree was just a blip.”

“It wasn’t-”

“Just a fuck-spree? Yeah, I know. But he didn’t because you never had the balls to tell him how you felt. And I did. I told him every goddamn day. So I don’t have any regrets. Can you live with yours, Sergeant?”

Sherlock dodged the fist before it made contact with its jaw, letting it go sailing into the wall behind instead. The sound of plaster crumbling echoed through the room, already quieted from the screaming match. Sebastian stormed from from the room, shaking dust from his knuckles.

Jim started to follow him but just outside the doors Sebastian put up a hand to stop him. He almost protested until he met Sebastian’s eyes and the words died on his lips as he let him go.

He had never seen Sebastian cry before.

 

*******

 

In many ways, Sebastian was predictable. Jim gave him some time, but a couple hours later he found him a bar a block or two down from the church. The blonde was slumped over in the seat closest to the wall, nursing a scotch. Jim slid in next to him.

“Well, that went well.”

“I am so not in the mood, Jim.”

“I don’t care. We’re talking.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Sebastian downed the rest of his glass and gestured for the bartender to bring him another.

“Sherlock’s an ass but he’s not wrong.”

Air hissed through Sebastian’s teeth, “For fuck’s sake, Jim.”

“When we first met you called me a ‘perceptive little bugger.’ In regards to John, actually. But also because it’s my job to be one. As I believe I pointed out then and I’m pointing out again now.”

The slam of his glass against the bar counter didn’t muffle out Sebastian’s snort. “So much for that perceptiveness considering how things turned out.”

Jim’s eyes went black, his body motionless. “That wasn’t my fault. John died because he was with you.”

Sebastian was on his feet, in the same movement lashing his arm out and swiping the half full whisky glass across the smooth wood of the bar. It sailed towards Jim at an angle, just close enough to splash it’s contents over him before breaking in half at their feet.

“Get out! Get the fuck out Jim or I swear to God you won’t live to see tomorrow.”

Slowly rising to his feet to face Sebastian, Jim smirked. “Not a big deal, right? What’s one more death on your hands, really?” If Sebastian wasn’t broken before, that did it. For a second time that day, his fist sailed through the air. It was an anger fueled, impulsive reaction with little aim. He barely clipped Jim’s jaw, but the force knocked his head to the side.

He grinned tight through his teeth. “It’s your fault he’s dead and you should feel guilty about that. They all would have died that first night if it weren’t for me and you know it.”

Sebastian hissed and grabbed Jim by the front of his suit jacket and slammed him against the wall hard enough to rattle the glasses on the bar. “What the hell do you know?”

"A whole lot more than you do.  
  
"Fuck you, Jim. Fuck you."

“I regret that I ever did.”

A bouncer finally shoved himself between them, hand landing landing firmly on Sebastian’s chest to shove him back. “Hey! Break it up you two.” Sebastian face contorted and he tried to shrug the man off. “Both of you need to get out of here or I’ll throw you out.”

“I was already leaving,” Jim spit. “I’m done looking at his face.”

Sebastian’s protest didn’t matter. The fight was over. Anger remained, certainly, but there was nothing left to say. There was no comfort to be had.


	9. Responsible

One year, three months, eleven days.

One year, three months, eleven days, a hundred and twenty-three bottles of whiskey, four lost jobs, fifty-nine one night stands. It had become a routine of sorts and Sebastian took comfort in that. Well, something close to comfort.

The routine did not include visitors. The girls - and they were all girls - never came back to his place. Pension checks arrived alongside notices from the Veterans Association encouraging him to attend local meetings, but it wasn’t as if anyone ever showed up trying to push him into it. He paid his bookie on time. There were no visitors. So when the knock landed on his door in late March, he was content to ignore it. It wasn’t ignorable.

Sebastian threw open the door with a growl. Whatever he was expecting to see - a Girlguide, a “friendly” neighbor, a religion salesman - it was certainly not Jim’s smiling face. Sebastian’s hand dropped from the door handle, breath hissing out from between his teeth.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

The less the warm welcome did nothing to dampen Jim’s demeanor. “Oh, Seb, that’s no way to greet an old friend. Come on, give me a hug!”

Sebastian just glared at Jim. “What do you want? Aren’t you supposed to be deployed?”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Oh, that didn’t work out. I have other plans now. And they include you!”

He snorted. “Naturally. I imagine this wasn’t an honorable discharge?”

“Of course not. Don’t you want to know what my plans for you are?”

“Not really. I have no intention of participating.”

“You haven’t even heard my offer yet! I need a sniper.”

There was the slightest drop of Sebastian’s shoulders at Jim’s words, a darkening of his eyes. Jim took advantage of the moment and took a step over the threshold to close the distance between them. He stiffened at Jim’s sudden closeness but didn’t back off.

“I’m not a sniper anymore, Jim.” His voice was tight, jaw clenched.

“Ah, but that’s not entirely true is it, my dear? You still could be, you’re certainly still physically capable of it. You’ve clearly kept yourself in fantastic shape despite whatever other self-destructive activities you’ve been indulging in.” Jim’s eyes raked Sebastian up and down but he remained motionless, waiting out the speech. “The army didn’t discharge you because of that. You were discharged because your brain got fucked up and you couldn’t be trusted to make good decisions anymore. They say your judgement is off, you’re too impulsive to be a good commander, too hot-headed to be handed a sniper assignment.” He paused, studying the barely restrained anger burning in Sebastian’s eyes. “But you’re still good. Fantastic even, one of the best snipers the army has ever seen. And fortunately for you I couldn’t care less about your judgement and anger issues.”

Those words hung in the air for a while before Sebastian could manage to push a response out between clenched teeth. “What do you want?” Even if his facial expression had barely changed, the rage that accented every word made clear how little patience he had left for the conversation.

“Oh, Sebastian. I want so many things. I want an empire. My name, laced with fear, on the tongue of every criminal in London and beyond. I’m going to put you at my side. Give you an opportunity to amass more wealth than you know what to do with, make you the face that strikes fear into people’s hearts without them even knowing why. I’m going to let you kill again, Sebastian.”

Something flickered across his face briefly before it went hard again. “And what makes you think I want that?”

“Because I know you.” Jim waited for a response and when it didn't come he took a step forward, their chests pressing into each other. This time, Sebastian stepped back but Jim simply followed and the front door fell shut behind them. “You’re tired of being the one in charge, the one that has to shoulder the responsibility and blame when things go wrong. You don’t have to. It’s my turn to play boss. I’m tired of listening to your orders anyways.”

The old clock that hung at the end of the hall, left from the previous tenant, counted out the seconds of silence between them. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

“Fine.”

The corner of Jim’s mouth quirked up. “Fine what?”

“Excuse me?”

“We’re playing this in reverse, so how will you address me?”

“Hell if you think I’m calling you sir, Jim.”

He came at Sebastian, grabbing the neckline of his shirt and pushing him against the wall, pinning him there with the pressure of his body. “Maybe I’ll make you then?”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Jim drew one nail down Sebastian’s neck, not drawing blood but still hard enough to leave a clear red line. “Yes you would.” Then he kissed him.

One year, three months, eleven days. So much time, so much that had built up. The kiss didn’t break for the entirety of their stumbled journey down the hall or through the crash past Sebastian’s bedroom door. Jim only broke it when he shoved him hard onto the bed, taking his already ragged breath out of him.

Pleasure glinted in his eyes as he stood there, simply watching Sebastian lean against his elbows, not even attempting to stand. Slowly, he undid his belt buckle and slid it out of the loops of his jeans. The button next, zipper just as slowly, ever move careful, smooth, methodical. He barely blinked and that calm, knowing, almost eerie smile never once left his lips. Sebastian found it all at once entrancing and terrifying. That had never been true before. Was it that he was different or that Jim was? Or both of them? Or simply the world and the circumstance? Maybe it mattered. It probably didn’t.

The shirt came over Jim’s head and fell to the floor. “Are you waiting for something? Or do you think I’m taking off your clothes for you?”

“No.” As Sebastian stripped, Jim wandered to the bed’s side table pulling out the expected pack of condoms and bottle of lube which he unceremoniously tossed at Sebastian. Then in a flash of motion only someone as light as him could achieve, he was on the bed with him, throwing him flat to his back again, straddling his hips. He’d already been half hard - he had been since the moment Jim’s nails had scraped down his neck - and as amped up as he was just the feeling of him settling on top of him was enough to put him all the way there.

Jim clearly felt the change and gave him a cocky grin. “You’ve always been so eager, haven’t you?” Sebastian made a swipe for Jim’s head but he easily caught his wrist and pinned it to the bed.

“I don’t think so. Behave.” Sebastian exhaled sharply through his nose and while he certainly didn’t relax, he also didn’t fight. There was something in Jim’s eyes that he couldn’t identify. It didn’t make him wary, exactly, but it left the dynamic unknown, the next step questionable.

Their second kiss was as fierce as the first, if not more, but with this one familiarity began to sink back in. Jim’s teeth sunk into his lower lip, tearing at it as he pulled back and leaving the warm sting of drawn blood.

The grip on his wrist released and Jim’s fingers traced up his arm, touch light and almost gentle. His face was completely blank, if he had any thought, any emotion, Sebastian couldn’t see it. His fingers brushed the bottom of the red line still lingering on Sebastian's neck and then his hand closed around his throat, just pressure, not tight enough to hurt - but there was a threat there. “You know, part of me still wants to kill you.”

A slight rise of an eyebrow was Sebastian’s only reaction. “And I you. The question is are you going to?”

In a split second a hundred feelings returned to Jim's face and his fingers tightened their hold, taking Sebastian’s breath with them. Panic flickered through his eyes for only a fraction of a second before the calm returned, easy as could be. There was that clock in the hall again, the sound of each passing second filtering into the suddenly quiet room. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Jim let go.

“No. Not yet at least.” He studied him for just a moment longer before sinking back onto his heels. “Over. I’m taking you from behind.”

Jim certainly wasn’t large but he was aggressive. He warmed him up, of course, though just barely, a couple of fingers and then he pushed himself in as hard and fast as he could. He may have been gentler in the hall, but as he fucked him the nails clawing down his back drew trickles of blood. It was his own pleasure that mattered, that was clear and Jim came first with a hiss, a shout and a final claw against Sebastian’s hips that left a row of crescent shaped nail marks.

But none of that meant Sebastian missed out. He loved the pain and besides he was more than desperate and it only took a few strokes of Jim’s hand before he came too, in a fit of curse words and shuddered breaths. Jim pulled out and fell to his side, tossing the condom with little regard to where it fell. Beside him Sebastian dropped to his knees before rolling over onto back

They were both still catching their breaths minutes later, but once they’d settle back into normal rhythms, Jim dropped his hand casually to Sebastian stomach. “By the way, I’m moving in.”

He jolted upright. “What?”

“I’m moving in.”

“You are absolutely not.”

“I am. So many good reasons, Seb, darling. I need a place to stay. You have a pretty pension check. Cover story for why we’re always together that doesn’t involve a growing criminal empire. This fantastic sex …”

“And what is that cover story exactly?”

Jim rolled over to face Sebastian so he could grin at him. “That we’re in love, obviously.” Sebastian tried to respond but he couldn’t really come up with anything. Jim seemed to take that as an agreement and sat up, clapping his hands together. “Alright! We should get going, we have so much planning to do!”

“You have your sights set on something?”

“Of course I do, Sebastian, you think I’d bring you in with nothing to go for?”

“Alright, what is it?”

“Ever heard of Frank McPhee? You’re going to take him out and I’m taking over his empire.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally made it to the end!
> 
> The Frank McPhee story: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frank_McPhee


End file.
